


To Heal All This Poison

by DrainCyanide



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29894973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrainCyanide/pseuds/DrainCyanide
Summary: Stephen and Victor return to the Sanctum after their fight against Kulan Gath. They are both injured and exhausted. Now it’s time to heal.
Relationships: Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom
Kudos: 3





	To Heal All This Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt made on tumblr. A sequence to Savage Avengers #10, in which Stephen and Victor are lying on the floor after a tough fight. It's canon, I don't make the rules.

“Let’s not trouble our minds with this matter any longer. At least, for the rest of the night. Now, allow me to examine your wound,” Stephen asserts, smoothly reaching out for Victor’s chest as the king still lies on the floor.

“No,” he grabs Stephen’s wrist by instinct, his fierce brown eyes burning like amber in opposition to the magician’s ocean blue eyes.

“Kulan Gath poisoned me. What makes you believe he didn’t do the same to you? His blade pierced your armor. That’s no small feat,” Stephen replies with a sigh. “You know you can trust me. If not as a sorcerer, then as a doctor.”

Reluctantly, Victor complies. Stephen needs further examination for Doom’s armor in blocking his sight. They painfully head to Stephen’s study since the Sorcerer Supreme is too tired to command the Cloak of Levitation or cast a spell. Doom is not pleased, yet not a single word or whine comes out from his mouth.

The Window of the Worlds does not provide light from the outside. It merely gives shape to the Seal of the Vishanti which protects the Sanctum Sanctorum. The room is dark, only backlit by candles whose flames burn in a blue shade.

There’s a pillow floating in midair whose color swiftly – and magically – changes from red to green.

“Still spoiling me, I see,” Victor scoffs.

“Anything to make Your Highness comfortable,” the sorcerer replies, sarcastically.

The king takes his robe off and sits on the pillow, spreading his legs, as usual. He then carefully disengages the chest plate from the rest of his armor, showing his upper body and deep wound.

“The skin is bruised and dark. The tissue is deteriorating, which is certainly a bad sign. I’m afraid Kulan Gath’s blade was indeed poisoned. It’s probably the same kind of poison that infected me. Hm. Your antidote was effective. Would you happen to have more of it?”

“No,” Victor looks away. “It was prepared beforehand by adding a powerful healing spell. I cannot perform it. My mystic skills are limited under my current… state.”

“No matter. I know an incantation that will work just fine. But it will require a mystic bath.”

In a matter of minutes, Stephen prepares a bath with mystic ingredients. Doom is standing next to him, slowly taking the pieces of his armor off, except for his mask. The sorcerer doesn’t mention it.

Victor is not ashamed. Or he doesn’t let it show. He walks towards the bathtub, steadfast and unwavering.

It would be quite hypocritical of Stephen not to look. As the Sorcerer Supreme, he surpassed the concept of mundane. He sees and comprehends the world differently, poking people’s souls and auras. But Stephen is still a human being with mundane desires. No matter how hard he pretends to ignore his instincts, magic is about truth. And he is a doctor, after all. He’s quite familiar with anatomy, which he has deeply learned in and outside the medical school.

Victor is a magnificent specimen. He’s tall and bulky. Strong arms and large shoulders, very thick thighs and – for Vishanti’s sake, to hell with that – such an astonishing butt. Victor von Doom is hot. No one had the courage to say it until his face was fixed for a certain period of time. But Stephen doesn’t need to see his face to state the obvious. It’s not the armor. He’s indeed strong. And yes, he can see through Victor’s mask, even though he will take this secret to the grave. A healed face or not, Stephen Strange finds the King of Latveria incredibly hot.

“I’m waiting,” Victor is half-immersed in the water, not amused as he crosses his arms.

 _Do not stare, Stephen Strange. Do. Not. Stare_ , the sorcerer thinks as he levitates, waving his hands and chanting unknown words. The incantation activates the healing spell, making the water glow in a purple shade.

It only takes a few minutes. _Endless_ minutes. Stephen needs to look at Victor’s wound in order to examine the healing process. It’s getting better gradually, but it will leave a scar. What’s another one for someone like Victor von Doom?

“How are you feeling?”

“The pain is gone. No side effects, I suppose.”

Stephen nods. And as he does it, he stares at _that_ for a brief moment. It was unconsciously. Or maybe it wasn’t. His mind is driving him crazy, taking him to dangerous places and scenarios.

He’s sitting on Victor’s lap, locked in his thick thighs and cock. He’s moaning against his face, fogging up the mask with his breath. He doesn’t know whether he’s sweating or it’s the steam coming up from the hot water. But he can feel the drops rolling down his nape and spine. His wrists are tied around Victor’s neck by the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak. He cannot escape, and he’s _grateful_ for that. The king doesn’t touch his body. His arms are resting over the bathtub borders, like a spoiled noble. No matter how hard the sorcerer begs and craves his touch, the king is merciless. It’s true that Stephen decides the pace, but Victor doesn’t move a single inch. He just stares at that gorgeous, pitiful figure. He doesn’t make a sound, no matter how loud Stephen moans. How could he be so contradictory? So cold and cruel, yet so hot and gentle? What it takes to make Victor von Doom show mercy?

“Strange?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. It’s done. You’re entirely healed. Feel free to stay and rest in case you desire so. I will attend to my own wounds now, if you don’t mind,” he concludes, floating away.


End file.
